Taking A Break
by Forever Footprints
Summary: Peter makes Olivia take a break from her paperwork... and things turn Bolivia. Random time-frame. Maybe even a different universe? Forget that, it just doesn't fit in with the current plot. Please read, my first fanfic ever!


**Authors Note: this is my first fanfiction ever so while I would ask you guys to be nice I would also really appreciate constructive criticism. Seriously, anything would really help. Please review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, setting, or anything to do with Fringe.**

Olivia Dunham was in her office. While she officially had her office in the Boston Federal Building, the only office she actually used nowadays was the one in the lab. Sure, she could get her work done at either place, but she told herself that it was a shorter drive to the lab from her house, that she needed to see the science in order to understand it, and other logical reasons to go to the lab instead of the Federal Building. And while these reasons were true, they were not the reasons why Olivia worked out of the lab. Truth be told, she would miss Walter's babbling, Astrid's calm rational, the scratchy records, Gene's mooing, and maybe even most of all, Peter's piano playing. He was good, not spectacular. He only played jazz, never classical. But it was wonderful. To Olivia, the days when Peter played the piano were the days that she knew her job was worth the long hours and zero sleep.

Today was not one of those days. She was in an awful mood, and not just because Peter was too busy overlooking some of Walter's experiments to play the piano today. They had just finished a case, and while that was perfectly satisfying and everything, she was the one who had to fill out all of the paperwork. She was the one stuck at the lab until eleven PM on a Friday night. She hadn't had any social engagements, but the option of sitting home and maybe catching up on some sleep would have been welcome.

Olivia had just tediously sifted through the fourth of the ten packets of papers on her desk when the door to her office creaked. She grabbed her gun and had it trained head-level at the door in an instant. She was the last one in the lab tonight, or so she had assumed. Who in their right mind would be here at eleven on a Friday?

Peter.

He entered her office and as soon as he saw that gun, he raised his hands to his head and grinned like an idiot.

"Oh Peter, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize that anyone else was here this late." Olivia said, putting her gun back on the desk and relaxing back into her chair.

"It's alright, I didn't know that you were here either. But I'm here because Walter had some experiments going that _just need to be watched until they have run their courses _so I volunteered. Walter needed some sleep and hey, I like coffee." he explained as he poured himself a steaming mug of coffee. Setting it on the desk he looked over all of the paper scattered across the room. "You need a break, Olivia."

"What I need is to get this done." she said with a sigh, looking down at the next pile with hate.

"You might be getting it done but you are doing a shitty job of it." Olivia stared up at him in disbelief. Peter explained himself, "If I had been staring at boring papers all day, the words would start to blend together and I would reread the same sentence fifteen times before blindly signing something that didn't need to be signed. Trust me, a break will do you wonders." And with that he grabbed the back of her chair and rolled it, with her firmly sitting within, out of her office and around the lab towards the flat area with more room by the doors.

Olivia grinned as Peter spun the chair around to face him and helped her up. But that grin slowly melted off of her face when she realized, Peter hadn't moved an inch from where he had stood. Their heads were at most maybe six inches apart. That may sound like a lot, but when Olivia could feel Peter's breath on her skin, it didn't seem like a very far distance.

She kindof liked it.

He was Peter. Peter Bishop. Strong in every meaning of the word. Yes, she could see how broad and muscular his shoulders were, hell, they were _right there_, but he was also the man she knew she could go to. He held her after the whole tank-fiasco, comforted her when she needed to be comforted. But he also yelled at her when she needed to be yelled at. Made her take a break when she needed a break. Sometimes, he didn't even have to say a word. Just his presence, him being there and standing next to her, spoke volumes about how strong he was. Like when she had to disarm the bomb with her mind. The old Peter had run, the new Peter had come back.

His hand instinctively came up and gently brushed against the side of her face, their eye contact measured the entire time. He felt as if he might spook her like a baby deer if he moved to quickly, but she moved too. Slowly she rested her head in his hand, closing her eyes at the comfort, the warmth, the sense of never wanting this to end. She opened her green eyes and looked straight into his blue ones.

He wanted to kiss her.

She wanted to be kissed.

The problem was, it seemed, that both of them were strong. She was the fierce FBI agent who routinely kicked the crap out of people. He was the man who could do anything. Both had mastered control of their faces long ago. In the past, if he showed emotion it could have been deadly. She had to control hers because one slip-up in the very competitive FBI would set loose countless women stereotypes and setbacks.

So they looked at each other. His hand on her face and her face in his hand. Neither one showing on their faces what they really wanted.

Peter was stronger. No, he didn't hold out the longest while Olivia either made a move or walked away. He made the move. He was strong enough to know that this is what was supposed to happen, strong enough to give a chance to _them_, strong enough to know that if it didn't work out that they could both handle it like adults.

He wasn't afraid to try.

His lips barely grazed hers. It was so soft that Olivia didn't even feel it at first. And then it seemed that all of her nerve endings had moved into her lips because that touch was the only thing that she could feel. She could feel that the softness of his kiss was a test. A test to see if she just wanted comfort or if she wanted to try this, whatever "this" was.

She wasn't afraid to try.

Her lips met his with their breath sandwiched in-between. The kiss was slow, soft, gentle. Both were tentative, there were no boundaries yet and neither wanted to cross an invisible line. Slowly, ever-so slowly, her hands wrapped around his back. His hands found the small of her back, fitting perfectly.

Was it too far to pull her closer? Peter's question was answered when her arms tightened against his back and he leaned closer, hugging her body to his. To Olivia it all seemed perfectly... normal. Some part of her brain had awakened and had made her embrace him. She wanted to be closer to him, to be able to still smell him when she went to sleep.

His tongue ran against her bottom lip, wanting more. As the kiss deepened it became fueled from want, not from comfort. It was still perfect though, perfectly in sync and perfectly paced.

It ended perfectly too. Neither Peter nor Olivia pulled away to say something about what had just happened. They both knew that this wasn't a one time thing, that it would be a relationship. No, the kiss ended because it had run it's course. Slowing down at the end and gradually coming to a halt. It was heavenly but it was over.

They pulled away slowly, Peter's hands moving from the small of her back upwards, holding her. Not against him, just to hold her. They looked at each other, neither knowing what to do to make sure that the relationship would flow and not have the awkward transitional period.

So Olivia smiled. She was never a girl for the dazzling toothy grins, and this was no exception. Her lips curled slightly at the corners, the secret grin which in turn made Peter, who _was_ a man for dazzling grins, smile too.

FIN


End file.
